The Rabbit
by Nebulad
Summary: Velyian had only just laid down again when she heard the tent flaps rustle. She tensed, but recognized the way that the intruder moved- it was Solas. "Stop fussing," she scolded, trying to keep her tone playful rather than angry. "Stop pushing yourself so hard and I will stop concerning myself with whether or not you're going to collapse," he said shortly.


* This Lavellan is NOT mine, Velyian belongs to knightpaladingelebor (on Tumblr) ! Credit for the cover image is also theirs ! My wary attempt at gift fic that I am told worked out pretty all right !

The sun was setting on the Western Approach, and it was about damn time. The orange sand was slowly working its way down from _scalding _to _toasty_, which meant than Velyian could finally _rest._ The desert was by far one of her least favourite regions to explore, with its rolling dunes that went on for miles, and steep cliffs made of loose sand. She'd fallen flat on her ass what had to be twenty times just trying to work her way around the place to set up camps, and she thought perhaps her companions were starting to notice the slowing of her steps and the hard set of her jaw. She couldn't keep pace at the head of them much longer at any rate, so the horrible exposed camp across a flat plateau had to suffice for the night.

Foolishly, she attempted to sit with her team for a while, if only to wipe the concerned looks off of their faces. She sat in between Solas and Cole, trying to make her attempts to shift into a comfortable position less obvious. Cole watched her closely, which did nothing to ease Solas' fussing, while Cassandra shot her dark looks over the fire and stirred the thin soup in the pot.

They were weary as well- black tendrils of loose hair stuck to Cassandra's forehead, and she routinely reworked the weight of her armour across her shoulders as if trying to seek some relief (whether from the heat or the weight of it, Velyian didn't know- perhaps both). Beads of sweat pooled on Solas' neck, and his collar was wet with it. He had begun occasionally casting mild ice cloaks on the team as they forged forward, but with the heat in the air it had only served to cover them in lukewarm, melted water. Cole, of course, looked no more bothered than usual, though he had been included in all their attempts at cooling off without putting up any protest- perhaps he simply wanted to feel like a part of the team, or was attempting to set Cassandra at ease by not reminding her that any attempts to cool him were pointless.

"... and it turns out that probably _half _the missing _Hard in Hightown _books were-," Velyian paused her story, a simple little nonsense anecdote to try and force her companions to _stop _looking at her like she was about to crumble to pieces in front of them. Her back was _pinching, pinching, _and then _crushing _with a whoosh of pain and a gasping breath that cut her so deeply she swore she almost felt it in her stomach too. She tensed up and distantly felt Solas' hand press against her shoulder, almost unbearably warm with restorative magic, but the spasm passed and she tried in vain to act like it had never happened. His magic had done little but to make her shoulder hot. "-in Cullen's room," she finished half-heartedly, brushing him away with a nod of acknowledgement.

There was a long pause, then Cassandra snorted and busied herself with dinner. "Unsurprising," she declared. "Cullen prefers fast-paced action stories, as if our lives are not perilous enough." Velyian smiled, shoving back her hair. It had grown sweaty as the day went on and she was sure she would have to throw away the armour she wore rather than face the small oasis' worth of sand jammed in every crease of it...

"Forgive me," she said, standing up. _Too quickly. _Her back gave a hiss of protest and she thanked any god that may have been listening that it ended there rather than bloom into a full episode. "I think I'm going to bed for the night."

"_Pain, _hot and jealous, shoving aside everything else, pulling at your bones and raking down your back until a ball forms at the base of your throat, a groan of pain and irritation that you bite back. I don't know how to help," Cole said quietly as she turned. She smiled at him thinly as Solas' shoulders tightened.

"I'll be fine," she assured him tersely. She only needed rest and for the blighted Approach to be swallowed into nothingness the instant that they left. _Sand and heat and hills and cliffs. _A disaster waiting to happen, and another night spent trying in vain to prepare herself for another day of it.

She slipped into her tent and arranged herself onto her stomach. Her forehead pressed gently against the miraculously chilled pillow and she sighed, a relieving numbness flowing over her body. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply and evenly, wishing she'd had to foresight to remove her armour before settling down. It was usually part of the system- first, strip out of armour and into something more comfortable; next, put everything away where it was easily accessible (especially weapons, as anything that _lived _in that horrible desert wanted her dead); finally, settle down to relax.

She sighed and sat up to fix her situation, moving through plans for the morning in her head as her fingers mechanically reached for the buckles on her waist. There was one more camp to establish a bit farther west, and after that she could redirect focus to the Rifts that were scattered across the hideous place. It was harder to fight in the Approach- the sun was searing a yellow from almost every angle, and she suspected that at least half the demons that erupted from the Rifts didn't rely solely on vision to attack. Void, half the things probably didn't even have eyes. It might have been a bit easier demon hunting without the Rifts- she'd spent so much time in the forest, after all. She'd learned how to track silently, how to still her movement and become as one with the world as any other animal moving through the brush. With a team, however, it became difficult- even more so with an enormous, loud crack in the very air around them that wanted for an even louder closing.

She had only just laid down again when she heard the tent flaps rustle. She tensed, but recognized the way that the intruder moved- it was Solas. She dropped her guard just enough that she wouldn't break his arm if he touched her (which he did, always, with his healing magic pooling under his fingertips and against the thin fabric of her tunic) and tried to smile at him without turning her head. "Stop fussing," she scolded, trying to keep her tone playful rather than angry.

"Stop pushing yourself so hard and I will stop concerning myself with whether or not you're going to collapse," he said shortly. She exhaled heavily against her pillow, her lips curling into a soundless snarl. He brushed her heavy hair away from her neck and cooled his hands down. She forgave his pestering with a relieved sigh as ice slithered down her hot skin.

"Don't be dramatic, Solas. I know my own limits," she said after a few moments of silence. She had to draw that line in the sand for him- no matter how much healing he knew, he was _not _her minder, and she had survived thus far without his _expertise. _

"I have no doubt you know them," he said in a gentler tone, "I worry that you refuse to acknowledge them. Perhaps I am being... overbearing, but as an outsider I find that I am especially aware of your mortality."

"You survive one Chantry explosion, fall unconscious, spend days absolutely incoherent with a mysterious green mark eating you from the hand out, and suddenly everyone's concerned with your mortality," she teased. She felt him smile- his smiles were physical, a full body experience that made the air around him tremble and she adored it- and settle down next to her.

"This burden is yours alone to bear, I'm afraid. If it will make it any easier, I have a..." he paused, his fingers stilling as he reached the hem of her shirt. He gently slid his hand up it to touch her skin and she sighed. It was even better without the fabric there to steal away the chill. "I have a gift for you," he finished. She perked up.

"What is it?" she asked tentatively. The Dalish weren't very big on _gifts. _Most of her luxury items were things she'd found or made herself, or more recently, taken off of a dead bandit (outlaws always had the nicest jewellery, enchanted so thickly she could barely stand the rush of magic when she put it on). Her clan gave her things like clothes and toothbrushes and other necessities. _How do I respond to a gift?_

"I believe telling you very well ruins the point of wrapping it, _lethallan,"_ he said. She lifted herself up into a sitting position, grunting only mildly, ice working down her back in melted rivulets. He was holding a small bundle with little halla on it, and offered it out to her. She cradled the gift gently in her hands, moving the blue cloth back to reveal...

She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. In her palm there was a small, delicate rabbit skull with blue tendrils of lyrium pressed into the bone, working around the contours of the eyes and pooling just out of sight. She pressed it gently with her index finger, and found that the normally fragile piece was made sturdy with the enchantments that wound around it. There was a place on the lower back of it where a tightly woven golden sinew string was strung through and tied with a clasp where the ends met. "Solas!" She was speaking too loudly and could hear the Keeper chiding her all the way from the Marches.

"Does that mean you like it?" he asked with a wry smile on his face. She ground her lip between her teeth and nodded frantically, wanting to hug him but afraid to jostle the little skull. It's teeth were all perfectly preserved within and the bone was a flawless shade of sun-drenched yellow-white...

"Solas..." she whined excitedly, gesturing gently with her cupped hands. He laughed at her, but seemed more relieved that she liked the gift. He took the necklace from her palms and crawled to sit behind her, lowered the rabbit to rest between her breasts and brushed her hair from her neck to tie the clasp. "It's so pretty!" she insisted helplessly, not even worrying about her volume anymore. He didn't seem to mind, pressing his lips onto the nape of her neck.

"It's enchanted with bonus stamina and health. You are our leader, _lethallan, _and more than that..." He put his arms around her and pressed her against his chest. She wove their fingers together where they rested on her stomach, her bright eyes slipping shut. "More than that, you are important to me," he continued quietly. "I would never doubt your fortitude, but I question what sort of friend I would be if I ignored your needs entirely."

She sighed irritably, but the weight of the charm against her chest was weakening her resolve. "I don't need to be taken care of," she said shortly. He nodded.

"Of course not; however, what good is magic if I cannot use it to support an already formidable woman?" he asked. She smiled, humming a bit.

"Suck-up," she teased. He inclined his head in a mockingly scandalized gesture.

"If I wished to curry favour with you, I assure you that I have much more... _persuasive _talents that I could employ-," his voice dropped to a growl against her shoulder, "- Rabbit."

"O-Oh?" She had tried to go for _sensual _but it had come out sort of choked. It was the _rabbit _that had done it, rolling off his tongue much more sweetly than it did when the Orlesian nobles attempted to spit it at her in some vaguely confusing sense of malice. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he bit her, his teeth marking her shoulder where her tunic drooped. Her hand clenched his thigh and he scooped her closer to him, ever mindful of the position that she was sitting in. "Are you planning to eat me, Solas?" she asked, breathless instead of taunting.

"If you insist," he replied.


End file.
